


September Ends

by thatskindagay



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Captain Puffy is underrated, Dead Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Flashbacks, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Inspired by Wake Me Up When September Ends, References to Depression, Sad Ending, Sad GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Song fic, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, first fic, minor fluff, past dream, villain quackity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:41:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28735125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatskindagay/pseuds/thatskindagay
Summary: The porcelain shards at the ravenette’s feet hardly looked like his signature smile anymore. The green cloak he always wore was stained in red, forest tone hardly visible under the crimson.There was no rise and fall to his chest, no tea-kettle wheezes, no sly comments, no hugs, and no warmth.Only a pale body, propped up against the wall.orWhat if the festival had succeeded?
Relationships: Cara | CaptainPuffy & Clay | Dream, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 226





	September Ends

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by the song Wake Me Up When September Ends, and will contain scenes of blood, angst, and mourning, as it is rooted around character death. If these topics are troubling, I highly suggest clicking off for your own wellbeing.

George bit down on his lip, the copper taste of blood coating his tongue, though, he wasn’t sure if it was old or new. Maybe it was from the past few minutes, maybe it was from an hour ago. Maybe it wasn’t even his own.

Either way, he couldn’t find himself to care about the bruised lip, or the salty tears running down his cheeks, pooling on the neck of his shirt, soaking the navy blue fabric. He couldn’t bear to acknowledge the shouts of fear and anger from his right, as his best friend screamed for their third. 

George couldn’t focus his eyes, couldn’t even try to take in the scene around him. Couldn’t find it in himself to pay heed to the blood soaking the bottoms of his shoes, the screams all around him from all those who had to watch such a gruesome spectacle.

There was one voice that rose above the others, a laugh of sorts, their hands coming up to wipe the blood off their face, but only succeeding in smearing it. It wasn’t bright, and wasn’t healthy, it wasn’t filled with joy or humor. It wasn’t a wheeze that George would rather hear, or the breathy chuckle Dream would always give.

It was almost insane.

“Down with the tyrant!” Quackity laughed, his eyes brightening with a sort of manic gleam. 

The phrase broke a dam in George, and he fell to his knees, a sob racking through his throat as he attempted to hold together the pieces of himself. Sapnap didn’t seem to have the same reaction, because he leapt forward, dark eyes flickering with rage and melancholy.

The ravenette’s hands came to Quackity’s throat, squeezing and earning a choking noise. Both of their feet slipped in blood, threatening to topple both of them off the platform and into the crowd of horrified onlookers.

“You’re a monster,” Sapnap growled out, low and threatening. 

Quackity just stared up at him blankly, before cocking his head to the side. Despite the fact there were hands around his throat, applying pressure, despite the commotion, he gave a malicious glare.

“Me? I’m the monster?” He laughed out, quiet and shaky, voice dropping a bit with a furious tone. “Who exiled Tommy? Who gave Wilbur explosives? Who sided with  _ Schlatt _ ?” 

The name came out in a hiss, almost like a curse- a curse that could shatter the tension in the air, or maybe even resurrect the dead.

“ _ Who betrayed his best friends? _ ”

Sapnap’s hands loosened, eyes widening comically as he stumbled for words. In the end it was true. In the end, Dream had left him and George to fend for themselves, stripping the power away from every other person to grasp at loose strings. 

In the end, who was the villain, the puppeteer of every conflict? The master of a circus, commanding every act to suit his image.

Quackity’s laugh quieted for a moment, a hand coming up to rub at his own throat, surely bruised and swollen. His voice was ragged now, a sandpaper quality lying as an undertone.

“All I did was kill the monster. All I did, was finally rid us of a _tyrant_. Now we don’t have to worry about wars, or TnT, or even exile! Tommy can come back!” Quackity smiled widely, arms stretched wide around him, gesturing to the land visible from the tall platform. 

In the distance, George could see the community house, the one that him and his two best friends had slaved over, fought over, and slept in. It was where he had his best memories, and where him and his two best friends had truly been a family.

Memories of the first week came back, a bitter cold and intense warmth rivaling the Nether clashing into one, bruising feeling. It hit George in the chest, right in the heart, and he let out another sob, broken and loud enough to make Sapnap whirl around.

His dark eyes flicked momentarily to the mess on the ground, pure red and smelling of metal. It had been fast, too fast to stop or see. A quick stab through the chest with a sword, right in the heart. The crowd had only quieted, their gazes wide and shocked, too caught up in disbelief to grasp what had happened.

That is, until a scream had echoed through the air, a broken, choked one, desperate to reach the man. Sapnap hadn’t registered it at the time, far too horrified to think. It was now, watching Nikki and Puffy cling onto each other like a lifeline, that he had realized it was the latter.

A stab of sorrow swung through his chest, causing Sapnap to stumble. George, him, and Dream were a family, and always would be, but Puffy was the closest thing to a mother the masked man had ever had.

It was common for the sheep-hybrid to carry back a sleeping Dream, a both amused and protective expression on her face as she passed him back over to Sapnap. 

So many times, had his best friend disappeared for a few days, and reappearedlooking both younger and healthier. So many times, had he gone to search for Dream, only to find him on Puffy’s couch, fluffy blanket pulled to his shoulders, and mask set aside.

The porcelain shards at the ravenette’s feet hardly looked like his signature smile anymore though. The green cloak he always wore was stained in red, forest tone hardly visible under the crimson. 

There was no rise and fall to his chest, no tea-kettle wheezes, no sly comments, no hugs, and no warmth. 

Only a pale body, propped up against the wall.

Sapnap wasn’t sure if the sight made him want to curl and sob, to burn down a forest, or to lay in bed for hours. Either way, it wouldn’t change anything. Nothing could.

“Good riddance,” Quackity breathed out. 

A loud crack rung across the clearing, sending the shorter stumbling back and into a wall, clutching a heavily bleeding nose, and groaning in pain. His eyes were wide with fear, gazing up at Sapnap with a sort of panic.

Nobody moved to stop the ravenette though, they only watched as he stalked away, taking his last family with him.

-

_ “Just tell me you love me George,” Dream cooed, head tilting dramatically to the side, and hands resting on his cheeks. Well, the sides of the mask, actually. _

_ The brunette turned away quickly, cheeks a cherry red, and mumbling to himself over the crafting table as he tried to remember the recipe. In actuality, he knew the recipe, but it was a good form of distraction for Dream. It was a good way for him to pretend not to have heard the comment. _

_ At least, it could have been, if not for the hand wrapping around his wrist, and the jerk to his arms, spinning the colorblind man around, face to face with Dream. The crudely drawn eyes of the mask stared into his own, and anyone else may have been terrified, but to him, it was normal. _

_ “No, Dream.” _

_ “Aw, come on!” the taller giggled, swaying a bit and mimicking a dance with George, though it was horribly incorrect and the shorter wasn’t even moving. _

_ “Dream.” _

_ “Oh come on Ge-“ _

_ “Stop,” he said suddenly, eyes narrowing threateningly and voice almost angry. It was more defensive than he meant to make it sound, but between his own embarrassment and pride, he figured it was alright to just let it slide.  _

_ Dream immediately let go and nodded a bit shakily, turning to leave and work on the outside of the community house.  _

_ George pretended not to notice the way his shoulders slumped, or the way his mask was trained at his feet. He also pretended not to notice when Dream didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day, didn’t bother him to say those three words, didn’t chase him around gleefully. _

_ The brunette almost wished he had apologized in the first place, said sorry for his tone, and made Dream feel better. Maybe he should have given him a hug at least.  _

_ It was now, sitting here in the same spot, on a crisp, January night, that George wished he had said those words.  _

_ It was now, craving the company of the man, that he wished he had noticed, and given that hug. _

-

_ Sapnap winced in pain, recoiling a bit from the shock as the alcohol hit his wound. The sting was almost worse than the initial spider bite, which was saying something, since it had been a cave spider. _

_ The bandages between his teeth did little to soften the groan he emitted through the entire process, but either way, he had to finish cleaning the wound before anyone noticed that he had gotten hurt. It was stupid, how much he hated people noticing his pain, how much he hated anyone knowing he had faltered and gotten hurt. _

_ It was stupid, considering that most wounds he shouldn’t have dressed himself. _

_ It was on a particularly bad part of the wound, that Sapnap let out a fairly loud gasp, tears welling up in his eyes. The edges of the bite were slowly getting less yellow from the poison, and just a bit more alcohol would do. _

_ God, how he wished he had milk. _

_ The very little quiet of the room was interrupted by a door opening and closing abruptly, leaving a lanky and green-clad figure standing before the ravenette. His mask was pushed up on top of his head, leaving his emotions free to the world. _

_ Sapnap turned his gaze away from the man guiltily.  _

_ “Go back to bed, Dream. I’ve got it.” _

_ Dream shook his head and crouched down in front of Sapnap, extending a hand to gesture for the alcohol. The younger refused though, and instead poured a bit more on himself.  _

_ “Don’t be an idiot. You know it’s easier to let someone else do it.” _

_ Sapnap glared at him angrily, eyes glinting with fury and shame. Maybe it was the late hour, or maybe it was the fact he was not only caught, but woken his friend, that had him speaking before he could think. _

_ “Stop trying to be a part of things you don’t need to be. I can do it myself. No thanks to you.” _

_ The silence that came after was deafening, and Sapnap couldn’t help but wince. _

_ Dream had only meant to help, but instead got snapped at. _

_ “Wait, Dream, I-“ _

_ “It’s fine. I’ll just go back to bed,” the other said slowly, standing up and turning to leave again. His shoulders were raised almost to his ears, defensively, and Sapnap cursed to himself. _

_ Maybe he should have accepted the help, maybe he should have taken those few more moments with his best friend. _

_ Those small moments could have meant everything. _

-

_ There was a yelp from farther down the treeline, high pitched and panicked. The noise was loud enough to he heard through the entire woods, clearly startled. It was rare any of the trio heard that noise, Dream’s movements always precise, though reckless. It was extremely uncommon to hear him panicked. _

_ George glanced to his two teammates in interest and alarm, eyebrows shooting almost into his hairline. The response he got, was a quick, and shaky nod, before they bolted into the forest. _

_ The floor was well-lit from the sunlight filtering through the leaves, mottling the ground in golden hues. It was around noon, so it was easy to see around them, not so easy to try and find the green cloak amongst the leaves. The mask was easier to spot, but if Dream was turned in the wrong direction, it would be difficult. _

_ It also didn’t help that George was colorblind. _

_ “Dream!” Sapnap called out, voice cracking a bit. _

_ No response. _

_ “Muffinhead!” Bad yelled out a few moments later, still streaking through the forest alarmingly fast, white eyes blown wide in panic. _

_ George bit down on his tongue, listening around him for any noise- a faint rustle from his right of leaves, snapping twigs beneath Sapnap’s feet, Bad’s iron sword in its hilt, Dream’s voi- _

_ Dream’s voice? _

_ “Guys!” The tall man loudly stammered out from a tree, farther down into the woods. His voice wasn’t as panicked as the yelp from earlier had let on, but the trio still sprinted through the woods to reach him. _

_ Screw Manhunt, their friend was more important. _

_ “Up here!” His voice came again, now close by and directly above them. George’s gaze shot upwards, and a very loud snort left his mouth at the sight. _

_ There, twisted in vines and leaves, legs tangled together and hand caught on a branch was Dream, mask tilted a bit to the side, and cloak slipping a bit off his shoulders. He looked like a wreck, and the position he was in, suggested he had gotten into one. _

_ A very loud laugh sounded to his right from Sapnap, hands clutching at the oldest’s shoulder for support. George himself couldn’t help but laugh as well, eyes watering up. _

_ “It’s not funny!” Dream protested, the part of his face visible turning red beneath the mask. _

_ Even Bad let out a laugh, more of a light giggle, and not as violent as the other two’s gasps for air.  _

_ “Does this mean we win? I mean, you’re immobilized, which is the point of this thing,” George stated matter-of-factly, cheeky grin coming onto his face.  _

_ “No! You’re supposed to immobilize me, not wait for me to do it myself. It’s Manhunt for a reason,” he squawked. The red hue of his face grew, and now he was a bright tomato red. _

_ Sapnap merely cocked his head to the side, a wide smile adorning his features. “Nope. Rules just state that you have to be immobilized before dark. Right Bad?” _

_ The half-demon nodded enthusiastically, eyes sparkling with delight. This will have been their third time out of nine plays actually won, so it felt important. “Yup!” _

_ Dream tilted his chin up a bit, indignantly. George could almost see the fiery glare, or the way his nose scrunched up a bit, and his eyebrows furrowed. The hesitance in his posture was loud, and extremely satisfying. “Fine. Just get me down.” _

_ “Yes! We win!” George cheered loudly, a small jump coming into his step as his arms flailed a bit. _

_ “Celebrate after I’m out of the tree!” _

-

_ It had been raining outside when a loud knock shook the walls, jolting Puffy out of her nap. The open book on her lap clattered to the floor, her page no longer saved as the bookmark had skidded a few inches away. If not for the startle, she may have huffed in annoyance, and demanded that the person at the door leave, since it was dark out. _

_ Puffy only rubbed at her eyes though, careful as usual not to poke them with the edges of her hooved hands. They were sometimes bothersome, having to remember that she could rip fabric easily, or accidentally poke someone when she playfully punched them in the shoulder. Other times, she was glad, because they were harder and prevented injury. _

_ Another series of loud knocks had her scrambling to get up, blanket falling off her lap and landing on the floor in a hurry. Her voice called out, hesitant yet assertive, “I’m coming!” _

_ It was within a few more moments of loud scrambling and clattering of furniture, that she opened the door loudly, hinges squeaking in protest at the speed. Puffy’s labored breaths were very audible, and she clutched her side where she stood. _

_ “What can I do for-“ she paused, eyes widening a bit and then softening with sympathy. “Dream.” _

_ The young man- who couldn’t have been more than nineteen at the time- nodded a bit in greeting. The movement was slow, and shaky, a bit of a tremble in the visible part of his jaw, and in his shoulders. The cloak was a dark green from the rainwater, and his mask was dripping with water that had pooled on the underside.  _

_ Puffy winced, and gestured for him to come inside. _

_ It was common that the man would appear in the middle of the night, or even after a Manhunt. Sometimes, Puffy would patch up a wound, sometimes, he would be the one to comfort her after a stressful day. It was a relationship similar of that to a mother and son, though they didn’t live together, and Puffy wasn’t realistically old enough to be his mom.  _

_ Maybe it was more of an older sibling relationship, but either way, it was cherished, and special.  _

_ Dream padded inside, boots squelching in an irking way, shoulders slumped. It was after only five steps, that the older got irritated and demanded he took off the shoes and get dressed into warm socks and clothes that he had left in the guest room. _

_ Dream only nodded silently, wood creaking underneath his feet with heavy steps as he followed the order. _

_ Puffy watched him go, concern furrowing her eyebrows. Usually, he was loud and boisterous, poking fun and creating havoc. Even on the worst days, he would crack small jokes that made Puffy laugh. _

_ The only thing she could do for now though, was grab the warmest, fluffiest towel she owned, make a large cup of hot chocolate, and start a fire in the fireplace. The blanket that had previously been discarded on the floor, was placed before the bricks of the hearth, along with several pillows. _

_ By the time Dream came back out in a white t-shirt and dark green basketball shorts, everything was prepared, and Puffy merely gestured to the spot she had prepared wordlessly, towel hanging over her arm. _

_ Again, Dream merely sat down, muttering a small ‘thank you’ when the hot chocolate was placed in his hands, and a towel began worrying at his mid-length, dirty blonde hair.  _

_ The mask had been discarded as well with the clothes, allowing Puffy to see the expression on his face, pure concern, contempt, and nerves. It was worrying, considering his usual demeanor. _

_ “Dream,” she stated after awhile, softly, and sympathetically. The younger made a small hum to signal he was listening. “What’s the matter, Duckling?” _

_ The use of the nickname made Dream give a small noise of content towards the woman, who gave a small smile back. She had first used it when he was only fifteen or so, following her around the woods in both boredom and curiosity. _

_ Dream inhaled shakily, eyes turned towards the fire, surveying the dancing embers, and watching as the flames licked at the brick walls. “I hate storms,” was all he said. _

_ Puffy nodded, and continued at her task of drying the younger’s hair, the usual color coming back and no longer a dark, matted brown. Vaguely, she recalled how Dream had shared his fear of lightning and the unknown with her, a terrible combination when you’re alone in the woods during a storm. _

_ “I quite like them,” she stated, warm fondness dripping into her tone like honey. “They’re always scary at first glance, loud noises and destruction. But if you look a bit closer, you can see the rainbow afterwards, or the way the rain heals the plants it touches.” _

_ Dream’s breath hitched and finally, his gaze turned up to Puffy’s, eyes hesitant and a bit watery. The panic from early had faded, leaving the traces of shaky adrenaline and lingering tears. _

_ “Storms always seem evil at first, but if you look hard enough, they can be one of the most calming, and important things in your life.” _

-

George’s knees were pulled to his chest tightly, chin resting on his bruised kneecaps, and increasing the pressure on his tongue. His teeth dug into the muscle, but he couldn’t be bothered to care about the stings of pain. The world was bleak, and everything felt cold. Exhaustion weighed on his shoulders, despite the long nap he had just taken.

It was three days after the festival. Three days since he’d seen the person he called a brother and best friend, lying dead. Three days without tea-kettle wheezes, and three days since he’d last spoken to anyone.

His throat ached from the sobs and screams he let out every so often, even though the tears had long since dried up in his eyes. His cheeks were flushed from the salty liquid, and his eyes were hidden beneath goggles constantly.

The door to the guest room of Sapnap’s house opened with a creak, revealing the man himself, eyes glassy and distant. His cheeks were flushed a bit as well with tears, and it was easy enough to tell why.

“George,” he said softly. His voice wavering a bit, and his jaw trembling. It made the brunette turn his attention to his best friend, the only one left. “You need to eat and drink.”

The oldest merely let out a loud huff of indignation, and stretched out on the bed, laying his cheek on the pillow. 

It had been three days since he left piece of furniture.

“Please?”

George grunted out a simple, “no,” and turned over to expose his back to his friend. Sure, it was rude, but in his state, he didn’t have the energy to address it. He didn’t have the energy to pretend that his life was put together like Sapnap was doing.

“George, please. He wouldn’t want you to-“

The brunette growled momentarily, anger clouding his mind. Maybe it was at Quackity, maybe it was at Dream for leaving so early, maybe it was at Sapnap. He didn’t know where it came from, but he only let out a soft response of:

“Don’t tell me what he would have wanted. He’s not here, and won’t ever be again.”

“George-“

The brunette threw a glare over his shoulder, eyes sparking with rage and melancholy, sorrow clear in the way his shoulders rose and he tensed up. The tremble in his hands was masked by the sharp hold on the blanket, bunched up.

“Wake me up when January ends.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first fic for this fandom and on AO3, so excuse any sort of technical error I made. I’m still learning.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Hopefully my next fic will be less angst heavy. I usually don’t write any sort of sad ending type stories, but I decided to give it a shot.
> 
> Again, this fic was inspired by Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day. I highly recommend listening to it if alternative rock is your forte.
> 
> -Chaos


End file.
